


Dance, Dance

by TheRedFangirl



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Angst, Buckle up your seatbelts kids cause its gonna be the ride of your life, Car Accidents, Crying, Drama, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Humor, Injury, Los Angeles, M/M, Mutual Pining, Original Character(s), Pining, Romance, Shipping, Slightly Out Of Character, Teenagers, They all just want to dance y'all, What Have I Done, all these relationships are so s o f t guys, bunny - Freeform, creek - Freeform, someone call the dentist cause we're getting cavities, stupid fools in love, style - Freeform, very briefly mentioned Tyde, what am I doing with my life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-01-04 14:32:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18345608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedFangirl/pseuds/TheRedFangirl
Summary: Loving the art of dance was never something Craig Tucker would let anyone know about him. He was determined to drag it down six feet under with him when his inevitable demise came. That’s why, when being exposed one day after a game by his coach, he was planning a one way trip to hell; until his coach sat him down and told him of a place called South Park Dance Academy.ORThe story no one asked for where Craig loves to dance, meets the gang at a dance school, and goes on one hell of an adventure fit for the history books.





	1. Let's Get It Started

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright alright, before anyone says anything, yes, this is an AU where Team Craig and Team Kyle have never met before, and yes, they go to separate high schools. Hope you enjoy reading, and apologies in advance for this absolute sin I have committed.

The game had just concluded, the South Park High football team bringing home the win 35-21. As players cleared off the field, Clyde Donovan, the quarterback, jogged up to his friend and jokingly tackled him from behind, nearly sending them both toppling to the ground.

“Hey Craig, nice one out there; you’re so good you almost lost it for us,” Clyde remarked snarkily, pushing off of him and proceeding to walk next to him. He smirked as he took a swig from his water, and dodged a punch from said player.

“Shut up, it wouldn’t have been as bad if _someone_ had watched where they were running instead of daydreaming about-” Craig snapped back, nearly exposing Clyde before said boy lunged for him and covered his mouth.

“Dude!! Okay okay geez, I told you that in good faith. You better watch your step, Tucker, or I’ll be kicking two more balls,” He glared threateningly, “and no, I’m not talking footballs.” 

Craig just looked at him unfazed, with an unimpressed expression that likely translated to ‘really?’

“Mmhmm. Alright, well when you finally get together, text me; I’ll look forward to it putting an end to your pining ass.” With that final statement, they entered the locker room and Craig got to packing his things. Clyde huffed and pouted, opening his locker and following suit in packing.

Token, who entered shortly after the exchange between said players, looked on with mild confusion but was too tired to care. He slung his bag over his shoulder and bidded both boys a brief goodbye. Clyde hastily threw his bag over his shoulder and nearly ran through the doors to catch up to him; Craig heard a muffled “Hey Toke, wait up!” through the now closed door. 

The rest of the players quickly entered the room, grabbed their things, and then exited as quickly as they came, leaving him alone.

Craig was about to head home when he noticed how much of a mess his locker had become from several pregame practices prior. With a sigh, he plugged in his headphones and pulled out his phone, shuffling a playlist as he mindlessly reorganized the contents of his locker and bag.

After a couple minutes of cleaning, an absolute earworm of a song came on that almost immediately had Craig tapping his foot to the beat. It wasn’t before long that energy was pumping through his veins, naturally guiding his body into a freestyle routine that had him moving around the empty space.

 

///////////

 

Coach Garrett was packing up and heading out, turning off the lights and preparing to lock all the doors when he heard a series of rather loud footfalls coming from the locker room. The boys had all gone home, so now on alert, he decided to investigate. Slowly and cautiously pushing open the door, he entered quietly and peered around the corner; only to see someone prancing around the lockers. His eyes widened when he saw one of his own players, a running back who was light on his feet - Craig Tucker.

He watched in silent and bewildered awe, the boy’s perfectly coordinated movements looking good even without being able to hear the music accompanying it himself. At some point he utilized the center bench, stepping up onto it swiftly and doing some advanced moves, figure only illuminated by the one fluorescent light above him. Letting the routine go on until the end, he finally decided to make his presence known to the boy who was still trying to catch his breath.

With the silence between the ending of the song and the beginning of the next one, Craig was able to hear the world outside again, and when the silence was broken by a cough, he whipped around so fast he almost tripped.

“C-coach!” He yelped in shock, ripping the headphones from his ears and face immediately heating up. He said a silent prayer in his head that Garrett had just walked in, and hadn’t seen anything.

“Craig.” He cleared his throat, obviously indicating he had been there and had seen practically everything. “You packing up?” he contemplated on whether he should mention anything or not.

Craig’s eyes were the size of saucers as he hastily grabbed his bag from his locker, slammed it shut, and muttered out a “Yeah, just heading out! Sorry to stay overtime,” he moved to walk past him, but an arm blocked his path. “...uh, coach?”

Garrett just looked at the still mortified player with a cool gaze, trying to keep as blank faced as possible. “Craig, sit down, son.” He grasped the shoulder of the younger, guiding him to sit down on the bench.

He did as he was told, sitting down and staring holes into the ground as his bag dropped down next to him.

Coach leaned against the locker in front of him, crossing his arms. Craig waited for the inevitable, he was gonna be suspended for messing around (no, he was _dancing_ ) in the locker room and staying much too long after hours.

“You need to quit the team.” He broke the silence, and that officials confirmed his suspicions. It was over. Craig continued to stare at the concrete floor, mentally berading himself for being so stupid and letting himself pull what he just did minutes prior. What the actual fuck was wrong with him?

Then Coach spoke again. “You know, I don’t say this often, but you need to quit so you can pursue something better. Something you enjoy doing. High school sports won’t ever give you that kind of satisfaction; I saw you.”

Craig lifted his head in shock, nearly gaping at the man standing above him.

“I… y-you what? You _want_ me to quit?” He asked in bafflement.

“Yes.” He spoke in such a serious tone that it sent chills down his spine.

“You’ve got to be kidding, Coach.”

“Not even a little bit.”

“But I can’t just leave in the middle of the season, the team-”

“Will support you,” He interrupted. “Let me tell you something Tucker, in all my years of coaching, I’ve never seen raw, natural talent like that. You got something son, don’t let a mere sport take that from you.”

There was more silence before he pushed himself off the locker. “There’s a place on the East side of town called South Park Dance Academy. I’m friends with one of the instructors there. If you want, I’ll put in a word for your application.” He said with a small smile. “Think about it, Craig.” And with that as the final word, he left Craig alone, still sitting and staring at the lockers, not believing what had just happened.

 

/////////////

 

Craig was wide awake, staring at his ceiling which was still plastered with glow in the dark stars, mind running a million miles per hour with questions, words from earlier still echoing through his head.

_“But I can’t just leave in the middle of the season, the team-”_

_“Will support you. Let me tell you something Tucker, in all my years of coaching, I’ve never seen raw, natural talent like that. You got something kid, don’t let a mere sport take that from you.”_

Craig’s mouth dropped open when he heard Coach Garrett say those words. He was actually _encouraging_ him to leave the team, and that was saying something because he knew how passionate he was about the team and the sport.

_What just happened?_

_Should I actually do this?_

_Do I even WANT to do this??_

_…_

_What would the guys think-_

The last thought actually made Craig gasp lightly and bolt upright, the bed under him creaking a little with the sudden motion. He hadn’t thought about what the other’s would think if he suddenly quit, let alone join a **_dance academy!_ **

He pressed his ice cold hands to his burning face, sighing into them. If the guys caught wind of this, it would never end. 

Needless to say, he barely slept that night.

 

////////////

 

The next day was a blur. Craig got up and got dressed, brushed his teeth and grabbed a granola bar, went to school, sat through boring lectures that he doesn’t even remember, glancing at the clock seemingly once every two minutes through it all. He was counting down the minutes until the final bell, where he would finally have the opportunity to get to the gym.

He needed to talk to Coach Garrett.

When it finally did ring, he packed his bag faster than he ever had and left without a word, beelining it to his office.

Upon coming up to the door, he halted. His thoughts were screaming at him.

This was it.

He raised his hand and knocked slowly, nervously. He heard a muffled “It’s open” and took it as his signal to come in.

“Coach,” Craig said, and the man in question looked up, surprised to see him but not displeased in the slightest. He chuckled lightly.

“Make a decision?” He smiled. 

Craig swallowed, his throat suddenly dry as he rubbed his fingertips against his palms.

“Yeah,” He took a deep breath and finally maintained eye contact, forcing himself not to be so quiet and pathetic. He nodded.

“I’ll do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Well fudge. Here we gooo-
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I'm hoping to have the next chapter up really soon :)


	2. A Million Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Craig's first day at SPDA. New instructors, flirty receptionists, and secrets revealed, what could go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, this took longer than it was supposed to. My family decided to randomly kidnap me halfway through my spring break to go on a vacation, but of course, we didn't have wifi or service. Ergo, this chapter was late. 
> 
> Sorry in advance once again for this chapter kind of droning on and on... I promise chapter 3 is gonna be better; just gotta get all of the introductory stuff out of the way. 
> 
> Anyways, on with the story!

Craig Tucker was the best dancer the academy had ever seen. Hip-hop, lyrical, musical theatre, ballroom, jazz, and even _lindy hop_ , which a lot of people and dancers didn’t even know existed nowadays. He was the first newbie to be in so many styles of dance all at once; the top of his class in every. Single. One.

 

////////////

 

The place was nice. That’s the first thing Craig noticed when he entered. For some reason when he had imagined a _dance studio_ in _South Park_ he had envisioned it to be some sort of back alley joint with one broken speaker and a couple of unfulfilled dreams. Was he ever proven wrong.

The lobby was immaculately clean and well kept, and though that didn’t automatically translate to the whole place being nice, Craig had a feeling. Before he could examine his surroundings any further, he was interrupted by a feminine voice.

“Hello there, how may I help you?”

Craig’s attention was immediately drawn to the girl sitting at the front desk, who looked to be in her mid-twenties; she had curly brown hair and was wearing a purple blouse. She smiled brightly at him.

“Oh hello, sorry, I was just spacing out there,” He started awkwardly, “My name is Craig Tucker, I’m the new dancer; I… think my coach called yesterday? Coach Garrett?”

She nodded, “Oh yes! Hello Craig," Her smile took a sweeter, more flirty edge, "I spoke with him yesterday. He’s friends with Zoë, one of our instructors here. Let me just pull up a couple of forms for you to fill out,” Her smile was still present as she typed furiously into the desktop computer, and then after a couple of seconds she pulled out some papers and a clipboard with a pen attached. She slid it over to him across the counter and winked.

“Here’s the consent form to make sure you are aware that any injuries that are self inflicted, and/or accidental can not be covered by the studio, and here is the release form making sure you are aware that photography without consent is a punishable offense. Pretty simple stuff, just don’t steal anything or get hurt, basically,” she giggled in an overly saccharine manner. He saw how she looked him up and down whilst batting her eyelashes like she was Jessica Rabbit herself or some shit.

“Okay,” Craig took the pen and signed in the designated spots. He skimmed over the words and filled in the necessary information, then handed it back to her.

“Great, you’re all set! Orientation classes start in fifteen minutes. Feel free to head on back and grab a locker to put your things in.”

He nodded in understanding with a blank expression and proceeded to walk through the door past the receptionist, not returning the gaze he could feel on him as he disappeared from sight.

Once he made it into the hallway, he carefully followed the signs directing him to the changing rooms and common area. There were lockers and cubby holes lining the perimeter of the room, most of them filled with a different array of shoes, clothes, and water bottles. There were a couple to the end that were empty, so Craig decided to place his minimal belongings in the one furthest to the right.

Looking back, his looked so empty and sad next to the other seasoned dancers’ respective spaces. He made a mental note to bring a water bottle and a proper change of clothes next time.

He pulled out his phone and sat down on one of the center benches, opting to kill some time by mindlessly scrolling through the internet.

“Are you here for orientation? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before,” a voice speaks suddenly, and Craig jerks his body up from it’s previously hunched position over his phone.

Standing a little distance away, there’s a girl who looked like she had just gotten out of a class. She had shoulder length black hair, layered to fan out slightly at the ends with side bangs, and was wearing black jeans, a white tank top, and a red jacket.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she spoke again, with a small smirk as she crossed in front of him to get to her locker.

After a moment of saying nothing, Craig realized  she had asked a question in her previous statement and hurriedly came up with a reply, “Oh it’s okay. Yeah, I’m new. I’m here for the orientation class.”

She closed the locker after grabbing a water bottle and taking a swig. She turned to him, holding out a hand. “I’m Zoë, I’m one of the instructors here. Welcome to the academy,” She gave him a friendly half smile.

She actually seemed to be quite young. Craig wouldn’t place her a day above sixteen or seventeen.

He shook her hand. “I’m Craig.”

“Nice to meet you, Craig. We’re in studio four and start in seven minutes, so I’ll see you in there for stretches.” She bid him adieu and walked out to the hallway.

 

///////////

 

“Stretch to the side, one two three and _breathe_ , two three, then lift your arms, one two, and rag doll to the floor.”

Once class had started, any butterflies and nervous anxiety Craig was experiencing before practically melted away. Once he actually saw the class his worries flew out the window and were replaced with comfort; It was only him and two other students, who were much younger and didn’t seem to be all that interested anyways.

Honestly, he didn’t even know why he cared all that much. They were all the same, people wise. At school he didn’t give two shits about his reputation, so why should he here?

Getting lost in his thoughts, he stretched with vigor, knowing all too well the pain of accidentally pulling a muscle due to not having warmed up properly.

A few minutes went by of warm ups, before the teacher—Zoë, his mind helpfully supplies—instructed them to line up in the corner of the room.

“We’re going to start with lyrical and jazz moves, and then move on to other styles. Let’s try our pique turns. You’re going to want to position your feet and arms like this to start,” she demonstrated by standing near them and posing, “and then step into your first turn. from here you gain momentum and spin through the turn to go back into your prep stance, which will take you right into the next. Try to do this all the way across the room.” She jogged over to the sound system and queued up some slow music.

The two kids went first, and after they had circled around, Craig stepped up and got into position.

Taking a deep breath, he let himself become one with the music. He stepped into the first turn, and then into the next, twirling around with breathtaking grace. Zoë’s eyes widened with surprised amazement, corners of her mouth tilting up.

He made it all the way to the end perfectly, on beat and in sync with the music.

“Very nice! Technique was perfect. The only thing I noticed was how dizzy you seemed at the end. Make sure you spot; pick a place on the wall and every time you turn, focus on that exact mark before you turn again. That’ll keep you from getting dizzy no matter how many times you spin.”

 

///////////

 

The hour and a half class went by like a snap of the fingers, and before Craig knew it, he was packing up his things and getting ready to head home.

“Hey Craig, I want to speak with you for a second,” Zoë said, “about your placement in classes.”

“Oh, okay,” He said, somewhat nervously and expectantly.

“You’re honestly the best newbie I’ve ever seen. Your technique and natural talent is amazing, so I’m placing you in the higher level classes to begin. How does Hip-Hop, Lindy, Musical, Lyrical, Ballroom, and Jazz, sound?” She leaned against the locker in a chill manner, crossing her arms.

“I,” Craig wiped the thin sheen of sweat from his brow and contemplated his options. “I’ll do it, thanks,” he smiled.

Her sideways smile grew wider. “Cool. I’ll see you next class then.” She spun on her heel gracefully and waltzed out of the room.

 

////////////

 

The weekend hadn’t ever gone by so slow. Craig spent most of his time practicing moves in his room, away from the prying eyes of his family. Currently, he was sitting in front of a fan he had set up near his window, cooling off after a particularly exhausting routine.

There was a knocking on his door, followed by a muffled “Craig?”

Craig instantly sat up and turned off the fan, taking a quick scan of his room to make sure everything was in order before responding.

“Yeah dad?”

“Can I come in?”

Craig pauses. It was rather disconcerting for his father to ask this out of the blue, unless-

Oh no.

He knows.

If there was panic, Craig made it his absolute mission in life to not let any of it show on his face. He grabbed a book hastily off his nightstand and opened it to a random page, then positioned himself on his bed to make it look like he had just been interrupted while reading.

“Sure,” he threw back as casually as possible, “what’s up?”

He didn’t even look at his dad when he opened the door to come in.

“Son, I got a call today.” Thomas spoke in a serious voice, “it was from a ‘South Park Dance Academy.’” He walked slowly, dusting off the foot of Craig’s bed before sitting down on it and looking at him.

Craig gulped, still avoiding eye contact and staring holes into the pages of the book he was white knuckling. He knew he shouldn't have risked using his dad's information, it was such a stupid move. 

 

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

 

“You know, I don’t understand,” he went on, sighing. “Hell I didn’t even know South Park _had_ a dance academy, but-”

Craig finally mustered enough courage to move his gaze up to meet his dad’s.

“I don’t care. You’re my son… and I want to be proud of you and what you do.”

“You… you’re not mad? You’re not mad that I quit the football team to _dance_?” He asked incredulously.

“You know, when I was still coming to terms with Japan picking my own son to be gay… it was real hard. But now, I’ve accepted that you are still Craig. My son. And no matter what happens from here, I want you to be happy.” He placed a one hundred dollar bill in between the pages of Craig's still open book. “I’ll see you at dinner.” He got up and left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him and leaving Craig still sitting on his bed with thoughts racing.

 

/////////////

 

“Have you heard about the new kid?” Stan asked Kyle one day after rehearsal, the two of them walking next door to the little cafe on the corner.

“Yeah, the one from South Park High? People have been talking about him non-stop,” The red head mused as he opened the door for his boyfriend, letting him walk in first before following him inside.

They got the table by the window as always, and plopped down into the seats as they sipped at their drinks. They always did this after dance, it was a little tradition they had that dated all the way back to when they were just stupid little kids.

Not that they weren’t still stupid kids, they just weren’t as little anymore.

“I heard he quit the football team to dance here.” Stan leaned back in his chair slightly, taking another sip. “Something about his coach telling him to join.”

“I don’t know, rumors are rumors I guess.” Kyle nodded in acknowledgement, “I don’t even know what he looks like. He’s only been to the orientation, but I heard he got placed in _six_ different styles. We’ll probably meet him eventually.”

“That’s crazy... and yeah, probably.”

They both sat in comfortable silence, eyes wandering but never straying too far from each other.

“Hey,” The ravenette said quietly, reaching over the table to grab the ginger’s hand, “Wanna go chill by the lake? It’s been a while since we’ve had a break from dance,” His voice had a touch of suggestiveness to it, and the stupidly cute smile definitely gave him away.

Kyle’s eyebrow raised. “Only because _somebody_ was being obnoxious during practice hours and wasting time.” He tried to look annoyed, but after one look from the boy sitting there, looking unfairly adorable while holding his hand, he begrudgingly (not really begrudgingly) gave in. “Fine,” he sighed, unable to keep the smile off his face as well. “Let’s go.”

Hands still intertwined, they got up and walked out of the shop, cups half full.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed (and didn't get bored out of your mind) and the next chapter will be out soon! 
> 
> Oh and, for those who are wondering where all the gay is, it is definitely coming. The Style that I added at the end of the chapter was just a taste, get ready for the mountainous 18 course meal that is this story arc I have planned. See you in the next chapter!


	3. I Wanna Dance With Somebody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh? New dancer alert? And who's that beautiful blonde kid?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I know I suck. I'm so sorry for the loooooooong wait on this... I hope the extra length to this chapter can make up for something - the guilt that followed me around every single day I wasn't finishing this damn chapter was killing me slowly. Writer's block, final exams, and depression are actually shit but I'm finally posting something, so without further ado, I present chapter three. Onward!

When Monday _finally_ rolled around, Craig was ready.

Headphones blasting “Eye of the Tiger” like the true dork he is, he plowed through his day at the high school and hightailed to dance with his newly stocked bag in hand; equipped with water, clothes, and shoes.

Upon entry, he saw Zoë standing at the front desk, and Craig mentally celebrated that he didn’t have to interact with that one flirty secretary all over again.

“Hey Craig,” She greeted when the door chime sounded.

“Hey,” he answered back, walking past the desk but abruptly stopping in the doorway leading to the back. He turned his head.

“Hip hop is first, right?”

“Yup.” She confirmed. “Here, I’ll walk with you.” She moved away from the desk and grabbed her water bottle.

They fell into step as they walked down the hall, walking past different studio rooms in the long and large corridor. Most of them were empty, but Craig’s pace slowed when he saw someone dancing, reflecting through the glass of a nearby viewing window. His breath hitched fractionally.

Zoë kept walking, seemingly not noticing the boy falling behind. He glanced at her and saw her walk away, and then directed his attention back to the dancer.

He was… gorgeous.

The dancer in question was a blonde haired boy who looked about his age. He was wearing a dark green button up shirt that was a little loose fitting, but somehow worked and flowed with the moves, and black pants. His blonde hair was layered in a way that briefly reminded him of fire. Craig immediately recognized the style of dance as lyrical and found himself hoping they had the same class; His technique was perfect, gracefully moving across the floor like he was gliding on ice.

Craig was positively enraptured.

Standing there for multiple moments unseen, he was jolted out of his trance when he heard someone speak out of nowhere.

“You know,” they said, a layer of amusement coating their voice, “he’s even better when you actually talk to him.”

Zoë stood before him, and Craig felt his face heat up. “I thought you went to the studio,” he said quietly, directed to no one in particular.

Her eyebrows raised and she smiled knowingly. “I did, but I came back for you. Ready?”

He stood for a moment, and Zoë could practically hear the gears turning in his head before she clarified.

“Don’t worry. You guys have multiple classes together.” She nudged him with her elbow teasingly.

Craig just nodded, swallowing his pride and quietly walking away from the window to follow her.

Ten seconds later, they were stepping into studio one where a bunch of other students were already setting up.

Craig walked through the door slowly, taking in the environment. The room was large, with an entire mirror wall in the back, and a dance rail lining the side walls. There were twelve, maybe thirteen students who were all varying ages, the youngest looking to be around sixteen while the oldest looking around early twenties.

He quickly found a spot towards the back of the class, set his stuff to the side, and started stretching his body like the ones around him doing the same.

He heard whispering and felt some eyes on him, but pointedly avoided the attention as he dipped into another position.

“Is that him?” Some kid stage-whispered.

“Dude, I didn’t expect him to look like that,” he heard a different kid mutter back.

After a few more minutes, Zoë finally started speaking and the class quieted down.  
“Okay guys, let’s get to it. We’re doing choreo today, so everyone get into groups and we’ll get started.” She directed. Right after she spoke, the room sprung back to life and people filed into small groups of three around the room. Out of the corner of Craig’s eye, he could see a group of boys that seemed close to his age; one with red hair, one with black (or maybe brown? He couldn’t tell), and one with sandy blonde hair. It was mere seconds before he was the only one standing awkwardly in the middle of the room alone without a group. Zoë jogged over to him.

“I personally hated it when teachers would choose groups for students in classes, so you can take your pick out of the groups here and just make it four. If you want to just sit out today, since you’re a newbie, that’s totally chill too.” She spoke over the rather loud voices of the others.

Craig just nodded, continuing to scan the room before saying an internal _fuck it_ , and joined the group he had noticed before. As he walked closer, he could see one of them, the blonde one, nudging the other two with his elbows to get their attention and direct it at Craig.

“Hey man, you joining us?” The boy spoke, “Name’s Kenny. Nice to meet you.” He said in a friendly manner, flashing a lopsided smile.

“Craig. Likewise.” He said simply, blank but curious expression in full force as he made eye contact with the other two guys still standing by.

The fellow raven haired boy spoke next. “I’m Stan and this is Kyle,” he gestured to the redhead standing next to him.

Craig noticed that both their hands were interlaced together, but decided to file that observation away for the time being.

“Cool. So, what are we supposed to do?”

“We choreograph a dance, usually about a quarter of a song in eight counts, and then perform it.” Kyle chimed in, speaking for himself the first time.

“Let’s do it then.”

\--------------

They ended up choosing “Wow” by Post Malone.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight,” Kyle counted as they moved collectively to the music. As they reached the cut off for their routine, Craig couldn’t help but feel like it was incredibly generic and boring.

“We need to make it better,” he said when they had all stopped dancing. “I have ideas; it’s too bland the way it is right now.”

Kyle’s brows furrowed as an offended expression crossed his face. “Well excuse me, I didn’t see you lifting a finger to help out over here.” Stan places a hand on his shoulder, the look on his face practically screaming ‘ _Kyle, chill_.’

“I wasn’t trying to be offensive. I’m just saying I think we can add a little more to make it eye catching.” Craig responded coolly. “You know at the beginning, on the “G Wagon” part? There’s four of us, and he says it four times. When we all line up for the first time, we can each drop on our beat and then rise together. It’ll look cooler.”

Kenny grinned from his right side, envisioning the move. “That’s actually a really awesome idea dude.”

Craig let the corners of his mouth tilt up fractionally. “Thanks, Kenny.”

“Let’s do it, we’re running out of time.” Stan nodded to the clock. The next classes, Lyrical 2 and Lyrical 1, started in only fifteen minutes.

The boys hurriedly got to work, re-choreographing certain parts at Craig’s command.

\---------------

_Got em sayin’ Wow._

They all hit their end pose and the music stopped, everyone in the room holding still for a moment before applause broke out.

After things quieted down again, “That was awesome guys. Ripple move gets an A plus,” Zoë said, and then turned to address the rest of the class who were still sitting along the mirror wall. “See you all on Wednesday!”

The class roared back to life, people getting up and scattering to locate their belongings and exit.

“See you later Craig,” he heard someone say, and turned around to see Stan waving at him. Kenny and Kyle were already walking out the door and Stan quickly joined them once more.

A different instructor came in and started setting up for the younger ballet class, and Zoë grabbed her bag.

“Lyrical 2 is in studio four, starts in five,” she informed him as she jogged past and disappeared into the hallway, leaving Craig on his own again.

\--------------

He counted the numbers as he walked past, and when he saw the number four he stopped. It was the same room he saw the dancer from earlier in.

Aaaand there he was.

Narrowly avoiding full eye contact, Craig ducked his head and swiftly entered the room, claiming a spot in the corner to set his stuff down. He stayed close to his belongings and sat down, getting to work on stretches.

\--------------

There wasn’t a doubt that Tweek was a good dancer.

Surprisingly, this was one of the few things he could just fully immerse himself in, to the point where he wasn’t a twitching and paranoid mess from overthinking. He was graceful, which said a lot for someone like him.

He had joined the academy a couple years ago on his parents volition (as soon as they found out he was gay, of course they were signing him up) and participated unwillingly. There were too many things that could go wrong; he could fall and hit his head, he would get made fun of if word ever got out, he could break his legs, he could pass out, he could-

But all of that melted away three months in, at his first recital. He nearly died from a panic attack backstage, but as soon as he threw himself into the first move, it became a natural movement, as natural as breathing.

So here he was, two and a half years later, prepping for his first competition in the hope of making it to nationals.

He worked hard every day, b-lining it to the studio after school and staying until nearly midnight working routines. Zoë would let him stay after hours in the studio because she stayed too, and sometimes they would even practice and train together. The competition was only five months away after all.

So the day commenced, and as usual, Tweek headed straight to the studio after school. He waved at Zoë as he walked briskly past, to which she nodded and continued on with her business at the desk.

He walked into studio four and flicked on the lights, setting his bag next to the table in the corner with the aux system. He changed his shoes, slipping out of tennis shoes and into jazz ones. Then he took out his phone and plugged it in, opened Spotify and quickly found his warmup music. He took a sip of his ice coffee, set it down, and then walked to the middle of the room, getting a feel for the space once again.

The first beats of “Death of a Bachelor” filtered through the surround sound system. He dipped into a low side lunge, nearly a split, stretching his legs to ensure no pulled muscles, and after about ten seconds he stood and then dipped into the other side.

A few minutes of full body stretching was all it took before he went back to his phone and pulled up his playlist of routine songs.

“Water Under the Bridge” played softly, and he increased the volume; it soon filled the room like a soundtrack in a movie, completely drowning out the world. Tweek stepped into form, and danced.

—————————————

When the students actually started entering, there were only six of them. A small class; Craig didn’t know whether he liked that fact or not.

“We’re starting a new routine today, anyone have song ideas?” Once the class actually got started. Zoë addressed the room. “Lyrical friendly songs, please.”

The class was silent for a second before Craig heard a voice speak up, quietly at first.

“We could do ‘Sweater Weather,’” Tweek said, inhaling deeply to keep his heart rate normal when he felt all eyes on him.

Craig watched as the boy fiddled with his sleeves nervously, before Zoë answered, “Sure, that works. Anyone object?”

The class was silent as people exchanged glances, and Craig felt his gaze land on him for a moment before it moved away. Craig held his breath.

Zoe smiled. “Sweater Weather it is then.”

\-------------------------

“Hey dude, have you figured out your stuff with Butters yet?” Kyle queried as the two of them walked out of hip hop, Stan joining them soon after.

Kenny tensed a little, but played it off cool in a calm composure as the three of them fell into step with each other. He shrugged nonchalantly. “I dunno, kinda? He’s been really busy with ballet and I’ve been busy with school.”

Stan and Kyle shared a look.

“Alright man, just know that things only happen when you make them happen,” Kyle nudged Stan, smirking when he saw him blush out of the corner of his eye, “you’ve liked him for months, you gotta take a chance.”

They kept walking in silence, reaching the commons area and settling in.

Kenny sighed in defeat as he plopped down on the couch farthest from the door. “Yeah, you’re right. I think he’s ruined me guys; I can’t stop thinking about him.”

Stan opened his mouth to speak, but Kenny kept venting, “I’m supposed to be the ‘fucks everyone and never gets attached’ one, not the hopeless lovesick one,” he lamented, and then, realizing how depressing he sounded, added a quiet but cheeky “that’s Stan’s job.”

Kyle chuckled and Stan jokingly gasped in offense, exclaiming, “excuse me?? That is one hundred percent correct.”

They laughed together before Kenny glanced at the clock and abruptly stopped, moving to grab his stuff hurriedly.

“Shit, lyrical one starts in two minutes - see you later guys!” He hastily threw the rest of his stuff in his locker and ran out of the room, leaving the other two boys in the room alone once again. Kyle shook his head.

“He’s not gonna last much longer.”

Stan nodded in agreement.

“Nope.”

———————----------------

“Hey Ken!” A cheerful blonde boy greeted, already deep into stretching by the time Kenny jogged into class.

“Hey Butters,” he greeted back, the corner of his mouth tilting up into a lopsided smile.

“How’re you doin’ today?” The boy asked as he lowered into a side split, head tilting a little to the right in the most adorable way possible as he made eye contact with Kenny.

Kenny made a point not to stare at his flexible body as it lowered down to the ground delicately. “I’m doing great,” he replied, and then, remembering what Stan and Kyle had said earlier, decided to add a flirty but genuine “especially now that I’m here with you,” afterwards. Butters’ reaction was worth it; he immediately broke eye contact, looking at the ground, a poorly concealed blush spreading across his cheeks like wildfire. Kenny considered that a win. He continued, “How are you doing?” with a slight lean towards the lighter blonde.

Butters broke out of his embarrassed demeanor enough to answer his question. “I’m doing pretty great too.” When he finally pulled enough courage together to make eye contact again, he smiled back, and the two adorable dorks just-

Stared

At each other

Until the class had started and people were starting to move away from them to the sides of the room, leaving them in sitting stretches in the middle of the room.

They both broke out of their reverie when Tracy, their instructor, cleared her throat with a knowing half smile on her face, and they both went red faced, springing back to life and hastily moving with the rest of the class, ignoring the snickers they received.

Stealing a quick glance back to watch Butters walk to the opposite end of the room, he admired every single inch of him. And, of course, Butters looked back also, the pair locking eyes for a split second before the music started.

And yeah, it was at that moment that Kenneth McCormick knew that he was eternally royally fucked.

 

///////////////////

 

So, this was kind of getting out of hand.

And by “kind of” he meant _a lot_.

The mysterious beautiful blonde kid was _everywhere_. In practically all of his classes, from Lyrical to Musical, Lindy to Jazz.

The only class Craig didn’t have with him was Hip-Hop, which he had with the other boys that he now considered his friends.

The four of them chatted about god knows what between classes, and this time they were all lounging in the commons, over fifteen minutes to kill before Kenny and Craig were off to Ballroom. Stan and Kyle (or ‘Style’, as Kenny had suggested, because at this point they had basically melded together into one organism) shared the couch, Kyle sitting upright and Stan laying down lengthwise with his head tucked comfortably in his boyfriend’s lap. Kenny took the single couch next to the lockers, and Craig sat opposite of him.

After a couple seconds of comfortable silence, a voice sounded.

“How are things going with Butters, Kenny?” Kyle asked, continuing to pet the pretty head of black hair in his lap like a villain petting a cat.

“Things are actually going pretty well. I’m working on seducing him; that blonde boy is going to be mine by the end of the recital.” He leaned back, crossing his arms in confidence (even if that confidence was more external than internal).

Craig, who was preparing to say something, deflated when he heard the word ‘blonde’. Kenny liked him too? Fuck, he couldn’t compete with him, it even sounded like they had a thing going at this point.

“Blonde?” He said, mostly unintentionally as he thought out loud.

“Yeah,” Kenny mused dreamily, “he’s fucking adorable, and not to mention the best ballet dancer this country, the _world_ , has ever laid eyes on I’ll bet.”

Craig’s thoughts came to a screeching halt. Wait. Ballet?

“Ballet?” Mysterious blonde boy didn’t do ballet. At least not to his knowledge, but he couldn’t be too sure. “His name is Butters?”

“It’s actually Leopold,” Kyle supplied, “But everyone calls him Butters.”

Stan, who’d been watching Craig’s expressions carefully this whole time, raised an eyebrow.

“What’s going on in your head, Tucker?”

  
Snapping to attention, he looked over at the other noirette.

“Uh. I-”

The room was silent now, all three boys looking curiously on as his heart beat faster.

“I like this kid, I don’t know his name. He’s blonde.” He said succinctly.

The silence sat once more for approximately .2 seconds before Stan abruptly sat up, and nearly leaped out of his boyfriend’s lap, effectively startling everyone and scaring the shit out of Kyle.

“I knew it!!” He exclaimed, “You guys have totally been stealing glances, holy shit!”

“What?? Who is he!?” Everyone’s eyes were wide in varying levels of excitement and shock.

Stan grinned.

“Tweek!!”

 

/////////////////////

 

Three weeks and four classes later, they had finally finished the choreo for Sweater Weather.

“A recital??” Craig exclaimed, eyebrows raising as he took in the new information, just having finished lyrical and standing in the commons room with Stan as they both packed up.

“Yeah, that’s what they usually do when classes are coming to a close. You came towards like, the tail end of the class cycle dude,” Stan mused as he packed up his things, shoving the remaining clothing in his hands into his bag. Kyle had already left with his parents to go to Ike’s baseball game, so Stan cleared his locker for him too.

“So, we’re performing the class dances? That’s it?” Craig did the same, slipping into his regular shoes as he shut his locker.

“Yeah, it’s just this chill little performance thing. You’ll be fine dude, I’ve seen you dance.” Craig nodded slowly, processing the information, and Stan brought the bag over his shoulder, offering a friendly smile. “I’m meeting up with Kyle, so I’ll catch you later, man,” and then added a quick “Make a move with Tweek. Seriously.”

Craig offered a small smile back. “Thanks, and I’ll try, dude. See you later.”

Stan left the commons then, and Craig was alone in the room, head filled with thoughts of what was to come.

\------------------

After all the classes were said and done, and all that was left to do was wait for the recital date, Craig asked Zoë for special permission to stay during closing and after hours to practice.

“Yeah for sure, just make sure to lock up afterwards.” She tossed him a key. “I don’t do this for everyone, but I trust you not to abuse this. See you on Saturday, don’t forget get at least _some_ sleep.” Smiling, she grabbed her stuff and headed out the door.

Craig sighed, standing in the now deserted locker room gathering his things. He made his way down the hall to studio nine, the one furthest down the corridor, switching on the lights.

The room was the nicest and largest one, and, as Zoë had put it, had the ‘God of all sound systems’ installed in the particular room, making it her one and only favorite. He plugged in his phone and filtered through his music, selecting one of the recital’s mixes to get started. The sound flowed through the speakers, and he couldn’t help but agree with the instructor and her opinions on the system; the bass was perfect and the quality was otherworldly, completely engulfing the room and transporting him to a different realm. He quickly moved to the center of the room and stepped into position as the beginning beat came.

\------------------- 

When Tweek had realized he had accidentally left the wing tip shoes he was going to wear for the performance beside his bed at home, he cursed at himself and stepped out of the studio. Ugh, this was throwing a massive wrench into his schedule; he had planned to stay for a majority of the night to practice for the recital and his individual routines.

He quickly locked the front door of the lobby and got into his boiling hot car that had spent the entire day baking in the sun, and winced a bit when the chair burned the backs of his thighs. He rolled down the windows (the sun had gone down, so it had cooled down to a bearable temperature) and ran home.

\-------------------

Beat, one two three.

Step up, fall back

Beat, four five six.

Down, lift, fist down into the floor

Seven, eight- fuck-

Again.

Craig sighed as he fell out of the pose, walking over to his phone and hitting the back button to restart the song. He stared at himself in the mirror, phone in hand, eyebrows furrowed with concentration. After a moment of deliberation, he decided to put the particular routine on pause and work on one of his personal ones to get his mind off the frustrating mistakes. He opened his phone and scrolled through songs, finding Shawn Mendes’ song ‘If I Can’t Have You’ and pressing it. Closing his eyes, he took a deep inhale to center himself in the room and gets swallowed by the music again, flowing like water.

\------------------------

Tweek made it home in record time (safely of course, because he wasn’t an idiot who was going to get himself killed) and tore into his house and up the stairs, narrowly avoiding tripping over his hurriedness. He grabbed the shoes and left as quickly as he arrived.

He had left his engine on, so all he had to do was hop in and change gears, and in a flash he was off to the academy once again.

Upon arrival, he parked and grabbed the shoes, briefly noticing lights on that he didn’t remember being on before. He didn’t pay too much mind to it, and pointedly ignored the loud voices screaming in his head that he was gonna get murdered by someone who had broken in. He went inside.

As soon as he entered through the doors he heard the sound of footsteps and froze.

Now on extremely high alert, he reached for his pocket knife and kept his hand hovering there by his side, ready to defend himself if needed. He bravely moved slowly and cautiously into the hallway where the noises were coming from. He saw the studio at the very end, studio nine, with the lights on and saw the moving shadow cast onto the wall through the open doorway. The shadow was making choppy movements and stopping once every couple of seconds. Then, suddenly, music started to play, and Tweek could feel the faint beat in his feet. The figure started to move in movement that mimicked dance, which actually made sense, and Tweek relaxed. It was probably just Zoë staying late to choreograph her own stuff. He stood up straight from his previously hunched over position, and walked down the rest of the hallway normally, expecting to see the instructor and say a quick greeting before continuing on with his business.

What he was met with was not at all what he expected.

Instead of seeing Zoë dancing, he saw a boy - _the_ boy, the one he admired from afar in his classes - with dark hair moving gracefully through the space. He was wearing a larger fitting dark blue hoodie and black leggings with black hightops, and his moves were perfectly coordinated with the song. His eyes were closed, deep into the song and the story as he let his expression tell it all.

He was absolutely stunning.

Tweek stood in the doorway, in awe as he watched the mysterious noirette boy dance his heart out in a breathtaking routine.

He was entranced.

When the song came to a close and Craig hit his finishing stance, Tweek was still admiring him through his reflection in the mirror, too caught up in his own world to realize he was now making full eye contact with a shocked boy in a quiet room.

Tweeks eyes widened in horror as he stood frozen, staring as it all registered in his mind. Before he knew it, his feet were moving faster than his thoughts, tearing down the corridor.

Craig, who had opened his eyes after he finished and was still out of breath, saw him standing in the door immediately through the mirror. They both just stared for a second that felt like hours in shock, and Craig whipped around then, but Tweek was already sprinting away. He gave chase, running to the doorway.

“Hey! Wait!!” He yelled, hoping to catch him, but Tweek was already jumping into his car and pulling out, absolutely mortified. When Craig ran out of the door and saw a car already speeding away, he stood there, eyes wide and chest heaving as he panted. Tweek saw him in his rearview as he left, looking for a split second before making a turn, disappearing from sight.

And that’s how Craig and Tweek officially met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting... real??? What???? 
> 
> If you haven't heard 'If I Can't Have You', go listen to it and read the end again - this song hurts my damn soul. I'm a dancer, and the routine I made to that song is the one I used for Craig - it actually made the audience cry. I wanted to implement the raw emotion from that routine into Craig's character, because I love the thought of him showing ALL the feelings he doesn't show on a daily basis through dance to move the audience. 
> 
> A HUGE shoutout to everyone that's left kudos and comments, it means so much to know there's people out there enjoying my AU (who are also willing to put up with my shitty updating habits)! If you want to see anything specific in this story don't hesitate to yell at me in the comments, and if it's not something I can add directly to the story, I might write a separate standalone fic set in the same AU cause I love suggestions. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, and I'll see you in the next chapter!!


End file.
